Fate
by Plum'oh
Summary: Izumi is dying and she's trying to believe in the miracle that is Alphonse Elric. / Pre-CoS, character introspection.


**Rating: ** K

 **Summary:** Izumi is dying and she's trying to believe in the miracle that is Alphonse Elric.

 **Disclaimer: ** The characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa.

Hey!

So I rewatched FMA03 and CoS (again), I got my share of feels (again) and I needed to write something. I guess that character introspections are what inspire me the most with that much amount of provided angst haha.

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 **One-shot:** Fate

Izumi Curtis is going to die soon and she knows it.

She doesn't know when, doesn't know if she has months or years, but she knows she won't see the day Alphonse will be eighteen—eight years would be too generous for the sins she committed. She has already survived for almost a decade, asking for another one would be pretentious.

She spends all her time training Alphonse all over again; for her it's as if it's been forever since the last time she taught him anything, but for the boy the memories are vivid like a burning fire, a fire that is fueling his desire to get better and more knowledgeable and more useful for his goal. It's been a few years but Izumi still remembers the harshness with which she trained her boys, and nothing is the same, starting with the glaringly obvious absence of one of the boys—she looks at Al and expects Ed to be by his side, slightly older than the kid she knew but still a kid, an eleven-year-old kid shorter than his ten-year-old brother. But only Alphonse is here with her today, she's only sparring with Alphonse, Alphonse is the only voice that asks questions and demands more, Alphonse is the only one to look at her with so much _hope_.

Izumi can't bring herself to say to Alphonse that his search is probably useless. She has studied alchemy for years and years, has seen the Gate and has acquired some forbidden knowledge, but she has yet to know how to find someone who just... vanished. Edward hasn't shown any sign of life ever since his disappearance and the lump in her throat will surely stay here forever. She can't bring herself to tell anyone to give up because she's hoping, too, that some day the missing boy— _boy_ —will barge into a room with his obnoxious behaviour and obnoxious voice saying _"You all thought I was dead, ha! Well it's not that easy to get rid of me!"_ as if he didn't cause major worrying. Maybe she's being foolish, thinking like that, but everyone acts like he'll come back; why can't she? She's the first to know that Edward is too stubborn to leave like that without a grand finale—unless his grand finale was getting Alphonse's body back. She won't believe it.

Her fingers shake when she pours the pills on her hand, and she swallows with a dryness that seems to have appeared along with the shaking. She's beginning to have trouble standing for an extended period of time, and her sparring sessions with Alphonse get shortened and shortened every week. She brushes it off when her pupil expresses his concern, and says that he needs now to focus on studying from books and on practicing—which is stupid because she's always said that 'to train the mind, train the body', and she knows Alphonse isn't dupe. The younger brother is as bright and smart as the older brother, he's just better at concealing it. And he's spent the last past months with his teacher; of course he will notice if something is off. But Izumi smiles, as best as she can, and she pats her boy's head.

(Her boys, the boys she almost raised.)

Sig watches, always somewhere in the corner of her eye, as if he's standing guard or making sure her image won't be tarnished when she collapses out of exhaustion. So she can't help but give him a soft look, a look that says _"I'm alright"_ —and 'alright' means 'ready'. In hindsight, she thinks she's never been that ready to accept her fate. She's seeing Alphonse growing up, she's here for him when he's facing a wall and she has faith in him.

But the guilt doesn't leave her when sometimes, she catches the sight of a mass of black hair in the street, and when she tries to call him, her voice doesn't reach him. The same lump in her throat hurts her deeper than she would have thought, because of course the boy won't stay by her side. She tried to kill him once, what rights does she have over him? Wrath is a stray dog; he doesn't need to be protected or to be sheltered by anything. He endured automail surgery, after all, and he managed to survive without anyone's help. Izumi just wishes she can act like a real mother to her boys, even just once. It's not fair that she gets to see them drifting away, one by one, before she herself succumbs to her illness—perhaps the Gate is laughing at her, it's punishing her twice for a taboo and for her inability to protect. She wants to punch God in the face for this trick of life.

One year passes, she's coughing up more blood. No pills can make her state better, even if she hires the best doctor of Central. She carefully avoids to stay too long with Alphonse while not being distant; it's a hard task but she somewhat manages, with the boy engrossed in his studies. His longer hair tugs at her heart, the pang of guilt and sadness constricting her lungs and squeezing the breath out of her. Alphonse wants to understand his older brother, he wants to see the things he's forgotten, he wants to get everything back to normal—

But Izumi is as selfish as Alphonse and she wishes for the same things, too, although the more tired she gets, the less she clings to the last hope she's nursed the past year. They figured out that the Gate is involved in all this mess, because the Gate is always keen on sticking its nose into people's problems. However they don't know _how_ ; they don't know a damn thing about it and the answer isn't going to magically appear out of thin air. She watches the back of Alphonse hunched over his notes and his books, and she almost sees Edward.

(She is reminded of the fact that she lost two children.)

And one day, she can barely stand, she holds back hisses of pain when she walks, she tries not to beat herself up when she gazes at Sig because Sig looks so devastated and broken that she thinks her heart will die before her mind. So she calls Alphonse. She's bedridden but it's not a sight he's never seen, she just has to hide her degrading state and everything will be alright. She motions for him to come closer—his eyes look haunted, he looks ready to collapse any time and he's biting his lower lip, as if he knew. He probably does. Izumi smiles and gently ruffles his hair.

"I guess I don't have anything else to teach you, Al," she says. "I'm sure you'll find other sources in other cities. And maybe travelling will help getting your memories back?"

Alphonse nods. He's rapidly blinking, averts his eyes and grips the hem of his shirt in a desperate way.

Izumi finds herself holding back tears as she throws her arms around him and keeps him in a tight embrace. She feels his hands going to her back and holding her as firmly, the sound of their ragged breaths the only thing that grounds them in reality. She doesn't speak, he doesn't question.

"Find Ed," she whispers—she hates how her throat seems trapped and about to break her voice—because she needs to let the boy believe, she needs to reassure herself that there's still a chance and that the universe isn't as cruel as to keep two brothers apart for eternity.

"I will," Alphonse chokes out.

She lets go. Alphonse bows, lingers a bit at the door, and leaves the room.

It's only when Al, twenty minutes later, closes the door of the house behind him that Izumi allows herself to sob with a hint of hysteria as she wonders why she has to abandon her children even though she promised that she'll be there for them.

The Gate opens a few months later but she isn't here to see her son's sacrifice and to welcome her missing boy.


End file.
